


Coup de Mane (the Pros & Cons remix)

by arcadenemesis



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Bargaining with Sex, Blade of Marmora Keith (Voltron), Galra Braids, Getting Together, Hair Braiding, Hair-pulling, Humor, Long-Haired Keith (Voltron), M/M, Marriage, S8 doesn't exist here it can't hurt you anymore my child, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:55:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28838148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arcadenemesis/pseuds/arcadenemesis
Summary: There are pros and cons to having long hair. Keith has a list.6. Con: "Plumbing Emergencies in Space" could be the name of Dante's tenth circle of Hell."I don't think it's draining," Shiro says for the third time since they left Earth, kicking at water rising over their feet in the bottom of the shower.Keith groans, thumping his forehead against Shiro's chest, trying not to think of the slimy, sour horror he had fished out of bowels of the ship last time. The memory alone is enough to make him gag.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 50
Kudos: 209
Collections: Sheith Remix 2020





	Coup de Mane (the Pros & Cons remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kenda1L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Pros and Cons of Mermaid Hair](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15144389) by [Kenda1L](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kenda1L/pseuds/Kenda1L). 



It isn't—despite all of Lance's jibes of "super mullet" (unoriginal), "evil Ariel" (insulting) and "alien messiah" (sacrilegious)—Keith's plan to let his hair continue to grow unchecked in the nine months away from Earth after the war. Salons and hair scissors aren't exactly in great supply during refugee repatriation missions, and Keith has spent enough time on a Space Whale to know that a luxite knife is hardly a good substitute unless he wants to heal the universe with laughter at his own expense. In any case, it's a Marmoran tradition, Krolia tells him when he first complains about tying it back. A braid should only be cut when one is going undercover, behind enemy lines. And now the war is over, the braids of a Blade were a quiet symbol of joy and peace, a silent reminder of what they had achieved.

Still, Keith doesn't feel much joy _or_ peace when Lance continues to chortle over the Paladins' reunion dinner, ignoring the half-hearted attempts of the others to make him stop. Keith will shave his entire head if it makes Lance shut up.

But then Shiro walks in, late from a long day with the Garrison, and it's like the day Keith stepped off his ship after two years away. Shiro's warm eyes scan the room, land on Keith, and the toe of his boot catches on the ground mid-stride. 

"K-Keith!"

Keith feels a crooked smile pull at his lips, bemused by the reaction. "Forget I was coming back, old timer?"

Curiouser still, colour rises high on Shiro's cheeks, but he rushes his last few steps to take the empty seat by Keith's side. "Not at all," he says, far too sincerely. A hand rises to tuck a stray piece of hair behind Keith's ear, the touch lingering and setting off thunder in his chest. "Just missed this face."

The rest of the table has already fallen to animated chatter, by now well-used to the tactile language of their leaders, but as the evening wears on and Shiro's hand toys with the ends of his hair, Keith makes a mental note to cancel with the barber. New information means a more thorough assessment required. 

He begins collating data for a more rational approach to his decision making. 

> **1\. Pro:** **Great for "unintentionally" whipping annoying Blue Paladins in the face.**

The first time truly is a happy accident. Keith is tolerating Lance's gushing about the latest developments in Allura's alchemy studies—enjoying it, even—when Shiro walks by the two of them in the halls of the Garrison. Keith almost breaks his neck to release a pathetically eager greeting as they pass. Right away, he knows that Lance will be nothing less than merciless in his teasing, because apparently everyone _but_ Shiro has spotted his long-enduring, wretched crush, which Keith truly believes must be visible from space at this point. Instead of the ribbing he expects at his side though, Keith hears a spluttered protest.

"Dude, what the fuck?"

Keith turns back to the sight of Lance swiping at the last strands of black hair stuck to his face, gagging.

"Urgh, I'm pretty sure that got in my mouth. Gross."

Keith isn't particularly thrilled about any part of him being in Lance's mouth either, for the record, but he can't deny the reaction is quite satisying as Lance paws at his tongue, openly disgusted. Experimentation determines that a ponytail is better for accuracy, a plait more weighty for force. And a beaded elastic, kindly on loan from Romelle, makes for a surprisingly painful weapon. 

"Okay, now I _know_ you're doing this on purpose," Lance accuses, rubbing a reddening welt high on his arm.

> **2\. Con: Also great for whipping yourself in the face at inopportune times.**

"Keith!"

The sharp, barking disapproval of Krolia is an unanticipated surprise, enough to make him whirl on his feet. Enough to make the momentum of his beaded braid smack into the tender flesh just above his cheekbone with a generous _crack_.

"Learned your lesson?" Shiro asks later, amusement poorly veiled when Keith hisses at the ice pressed to his blackening eye.

 _Yes,_ he thinks bitterly, remembering Lance's raucous laughter. _No more novelty hair ties._

> **3\. Con: Braiding, unbraiding, rebraiding again.**

Keith isn't particularly bothered about style over practicality. He's not going to be starting up a vlog channel anytime soon to show off a million different styles, nor is he all too motivated to learn. His tried and true method is to simply gather it all up at the nape of his neck and start twisting. That itself is bothersome enough, and even now, he's still susceptible to getting his fingers caught, or missing entire chunks, forcing him to start over. And the longer it gets, the more arduous the task becomes.

He can't stand keeping it tied at night. Even if Shiro's unexpected gift of a silk pillowcase (a frivolous luxury, Keith had scolded at the time, only for the stupid thing to become a near prized possession) is enough to keep the style neat until morning, Keith hates rolling over his braid in his sleep, lumpy and tugging at his scalp to pull him from dreams and nightmares alike. So that means untying the damned thing before bed, only to repeat the cycle again in the morning. 

> **4\. Pro: _Someone else_ braiding, unbraiding and rebraiding again for you.**

Predictably, the longer Keith goes without seeing a pair of scissors, the more people invite themselves to touch and play. Gravity is related to mass, Keith supposes sullenly. Basic physics.

Less predictably, despite his deeply rooted aversion to touch from all but a couple of stark exceptions, Keith finds he actually... _enjoys_ it. Some of the time, anyway. 

He only flinches belatedly when Matt plonks himself down beside him at the cafeteria and begins tying a tiny braid down one side of his head, apropos of nothing, after Keith wakes late and arrives at breakfast with his hair down. Keith sits stock still, shocked into compliance as Matt works with his tongue between his teeth and Shiro moves into a seat opposite them with a look that is both amused and, more strangely, a little pained. 

"There!" Matt declares triumphantly when he's finished. "Now you look like a sexy Viking."

Shiro chokes violently on his cereal. 

It's far more about resignation when Romelle forces Keith to sit on the floor in front of her in their shared downtime, subjecting him to her combing and treatment oils and some utterly ridiculous "traditional" styles. It's not unpleasant under her hands, but Keith sincerely believes there is nothing traditional at all about the two buns perched on the top of his head when he scowls at her camera.

Allura is a little more sensitive. Her hands hover, and she asks sweetly if it's okay to unwind today's messy, half-hearted attempt and tidy it a little as the other Paladins file in for movie night. The gentle tug of hair and scrape of long nails against his scalp as Allura works is soothing, and Keith feels strangely peaceful by the time Shiro arrives—late, held up again, as always—with Allura affixing an elastic to the end of a flawless fishtail braid.

"Looks good," Shiro says lowly, running the braid through his fingers as Allura shifts over, utterly unaware of how he makes Keith's insides rearrange themselves into similar twists when he touches so freely. 

"Braiding would be great dexterity practice for your new arm," Allura notes, sounding far too innocent. Keith would level her with a flat look if her mere suggestion wasn't enough to catch him completely off guard after her ministrations. He doesn't dare look at Shiro, feeling the heat in his face. 

"I wouldn't want to undo your work," Shiro says, sounding a little croaky.

"Don't be silly," she chides, cheerfully making short work of undoing the braid. Keith mourns the last twenty minutes of work for the both of them, since Allura clearly won't. 

"I'm sure Keith doesn't want to be sitting on the floor for the entire movie," Shiro tries, but he undermines himself by running calloused fingers through loose hair, and any protest Keith can imagine dies a short, painless death.

"It's fine." 

Keith turns his head, under the pretext of examining Shiro's new prosthetic. Far less war-like than the last, this one is fixed firmly to the join of his shoulder, sleek and shiny, and proportionate to the rest of his body. The thick fingers of his last floating model would have been a ridiculous sight, not at all tailored for finer motor skills needed for styling hair. With the battle behind them, it had been Sam that had put forward the idea of a more...civilian model, this time with a better idea of what to expect from the surgery. Keith privately prefers it this way. It makes Shiro look less war machine, more vulnerable this way. More human. But after relearning to do everything with his left hand, Shiro had been going through it once more with his right, still clumsy and shaky with the most mundane of tasks.

"...I'll try to be gentle," Shiro says, and Keith has to quickly whip his head around to face the screen and watch as Hunk tries to settle a quibble between Lance and Pidge over their choice of movie. He pleads desperately with himself to ignore any innuendo that comes to mind. 

Shiro shuffles behind him, knees bracketing his body. Keith feels strung like a bow, waiting for the pull of an arrow, but instead, after a moment's hesitation, Shiro's fingers sink in and Keith feels himself go instantly boneless. Shiro seems resistant to rushing, or perhaps just resistant to getting started at all, because he wastes time simply massaging Keith's scalp or untangling nonexistent knots. Keith is hardly complaining. The contact sends little jolts of pleasure down his spine, rumbling low in his chest as he closes his eyes.

"Are you _purring,_ Keith?" Pidge cackles, breaking him out of his touch-drunk oblivion. The rumbling abruptly stops as Keith blinks, finding that the argument has ceased in favour of staring at him with various shades of shit-eating grins. Keith feels his face flame.

"Aren't you supposed to be playing a movie?" he grumbles, wondering how hard it would be to strangle himself with his own hair. 

They laugh, but Keith suspects Shiro might give them a silent look behind him, since all three quickly busy themselves with their movie selection again. Tentatively, Shiro starts separating pieces to twist together, making at least six false starts by the time the scroll of The Phantom Menace begins, Pidge pouting with her arms crossed at the very end of the couch. To say Keith patiently endures Shiro work as he apologises for the braid being too lumpy or too loose or too crooked would be greatly understating just how much he quietly enjoys it. Somewhere between the podrace and Darth Maul's appearance, Keith rests his head against Shiro's thigh, eyelids heavy, and by the time he blinks, the credits are rolling, Shiro's sweatpants warm under his cheek.

"Welcome back," Shiro murmurs softly, leaning forward when Keith blinks blearily up to him. Keith raises his hand to his hair, finding it untied. "Sorry," Shiro says sheepishly. "I'm not very good at this."

"Guess you'll just have to keep practising," Keith says thoughtlessly with a yawn, missing the way Shiro's cheeks go bright.

> **5\. Con: Shedding isn't just for Space Wolves.**

It gets in his laundry, clumps on his floor, finds its way into the carefully made macaroni & cheese Keith makes for Shiro the week before Keith is due back on mission. Having the man you love choke on a long, baked-in black strand while you furiously apologise and pray for the Earth to swallow you up is a guaranteed instant mood killer for any panicked confession due to follow.

(Somehow though, despite all odds, it fails to ruin it entirely if a kiss—after hair is securely tucked behind his ear—is any indication.)

> **6\. Con: "Plumbing Emergencies in Space" could be the name of Dante's tenth circle of Hell.**

"I don't think it's draining," Shiro says for the third time since they left Earth, kicking at water rising over their feet in the bottom of the shower. 

Keith groans, thumping his forehead against Shiro's chest, trying not to think of the slimy, sour horror he had fished out of bowels of the ship last time. The memory alone is enough to make him gag.

"I'll let you fuck me any way you want in the pilot's chair if you unblock the drain this time."

Keith wants to be insulted by the time it takes for Shiro to decide, except he isn't even sure _he_ would accept the same deal.

"Fine," Shiro finally relents, with a long-suffering sigh. 

> **7\. Con: Easy to grab.**

Maybe it's a solid case for the continued use of his Marmoran hood, but foes in pirate raids and bar skirmishes alike seem to consider Keith's braid their advantage in a dirty fight. It infuriates him to no end, dodging outstretched hands and spinning to swing his braid out of reach. Thankfully, his boyfriend is overprotective and well versed in breaking fingers that dare to touch. 

Small children are just as dangerous. Also thankfully, his boyfriend is almost as well-versed in gently freeing hair from tiny, chubby hands too. 

"Maybe _you_ should be the one in charge of orphanage co-ordination," Keith scowls when a little purple paw clutches a torn clump in victory. 

Shiro laughs, tucking what remains of Keith's loose strands carefully behind his ear. 

"Nah," he says quietly, pinching the cheek of the little tyke in Keith's arms, who has the audacity to giggle. "The view is better this way."

> **8\. Pro: Easy to pull??**

"Fuck," Keith hisses, just as Shiro growls, "Yield," in his ear. 

Keith thinks he could break the grip on his wrists, held firm at his back. But the fingers wrapped around his braid are a new trick, maybe inspired by their latest adventures together. Keith lets out an embarrassing whimper when Shiro pulls, arching his back.

Shiro instantly lets go.

"Oh God, baby, I'm so sorry," he babbles as Keith flops forward onto the training mat, panting. "Did I hurt you? Are you okay?"

Keith is instantaneously, uncomfortably hard in his compression leggings and he makes that blatantly obvious when he rolls onto his back underneath Shiro. Grey eyes flick down.

"Oh."

Keith isn't gentle when he grabs Shiro by the back of his neck, speaking with a snarl.

"Do it again."

> **9\. Con: Haircare is an inefficient waste of time when you have deadlines, especially when your fiancé prefers to amuse himself instead of being helpful.**

"Shiro, this is not what I meant when I asked for help," Keith growls, wet twin tails plaited either side of his head.

Shiro is shaking with laughter from where he stands over their bed. "I'm sorry. I just can't believe you were so engrossed in your report that you didn't realise what I was doing."

"Maybe," Keith starts, picking up his pillow, "that's because," _thwack,_ "I thought," _thwack,_ "I could trust," _thwack,_ "the man I chose," _thwack,_ "to marry!"

"Uncle, uncle!" Shiro cries, but Keith knows the tears in his eyes are very much born of laughter. Still, he relents, putting the pillow aside and snatching up his datapad again.

"Don't be mad, baby."

Keith ignores him, reading over the report in his lap for errors.

"Giving me the silent treatment?"

Keith raises his gaze only to scowl at Shiro. But rather than cow him, it only seems to set off a new fit of laughter, his eyes sparkling. 

"You look just like Wednesday Addams," Shiro wheezes, clearly enjoying himself.

Keith quirks an eyebrow with a flat look, raises both hands, and snaps his fingers. Twice. 

> **10\. Pro: It's warm. Handy for the cold vacuum of space.**

_"Uhhhh… What are you doing, Keith?"_

Keith pauses, looking at Hunk's perplexed face on the screen, before smoothing the hair looped around his throat, tucking it into the front of his jacket. 

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Keith shoots back, because he can see Lance in the background, squinting at him.

Hunk blinks. _"I truly, honestly, hand to heart, have no idea."_

"What a shame. So back to your suits—"

"He's using it for natural insulation," Shiro provides with a grin, squeezing into the frame.

Keith has never felt so betrayed.

"It's long enough to strangle you now," he threatens, tackling Shiro out of the camera's view while Lance's mocking laughter rings through the ship. Somehow, Shiro still wins the upper hand, limbs wrapped around him and smothering him with kisses. 

_"Huh,"_ he hears Hunk say through the video call as he tries to squirm free. _"Smart."_

> **11\. Con: It's _warm._**

"It should be universal law that you can't call yourself an advanced planet if you haven't yet invented air conditioning."

Shiro makes a half-agreeable hum, clearly preoccupied with his diplomacy notes for the meetings ahead of them in the next few days—a final stop in their long journey before they return to Earth.

"Shiroooo…"

Keith grew up in Arizona, well and truly used to the dry, searing heat. But humidity is another thing altogether: a cruel variable that turns him into a whining, useless mess. So he sits slumped in a chair by the balcony of their emissary room, hair gathered into a Frankenstein flyaway nest on the top of his head, wishing for a breeze.

"Keeeeith," Shiro parrots back, with the hint of a smile on his lips. 

Keith has already stripped out of his Blades uniform—first the overcoat, then the bodysuit, leaving him in just his underwear. The only thing left after those is trying to strip out of his skin, which honestly doesn't sound too terrible right now. 

"It's like Satan's sweaty ballsack here," he grumbles, trying to fan himself with his hand.

"Charming," Shiro quips without even looking up. 

"How are you dealing with this right now?" Keith moans, letting his head hang over the back of the chair.

"It's not that bad," Shiro half-laughs, still not looking up from his notes.

"Not that bad," Keith echoes in a snippy tone. Shiro doesn't rise to the bait. "Urgh! I feel like I could wring out a gallon of sweat from my hair right now." He turns in the chair, feeling his skin peel away from the surface in a truly unpleasant manner. "I'm going to shave it, Shiro. What will you do then?"

"Mourn," Shiro says, without hesitation. "Probably doctor our wedding photos." He finally gives up on concentrating while listening to Keith bellyache, putting down his datapad. He takes in the sight of him, blinks, then rises to his feet.

"Baby," he says, hesitantly, "why are you half-naked by the window?" 

"Because my fiancé probably doesn't want me causing a full-frontal incident on our last peacekeeping mission before we get married," Keith snarks.

"I'm sure the Trut'yuti wouldn't mind the show," Shiro laughs, freeing Keith's hair from his desperate monstrosity of an up-do. He begins dividing sections close to his hairline in an effort to scoop up his humidity-afflicted tresses and pull them away from his face. Keith doesn't bother to tamp down the pleased rumble that builds in his chest. Shiro is far better skilled these days, twisting the braid with dexterous fingers—human and synthetic alike—and finishing it with a high ponytail that he plaits, then wraps into a neat, secure topknot. He leans in to blow gently on the back of Keith's neck when he's done, and Keith _moans_.

"God, that feels good."

"Nice to know you enjoy me blowing you."

Keith doesn't have to look at him to know Shiro grinning, as if he said something clever and not at all completely childish. "Shut up," he gripes, swatting blindly at him. But then the cooling breath suddenly disappears. Keith feels Shiro move away and he feels cruel, sweaty regret cascade over him. "No, wait, come back. I take it back. You're the pinnacle of comedy. A paragon of humour. You can blow me as much as you like."

Keith swivels sluggishly in his seat when he hears rummaging from their small kitchen, watching Shiro reemerge. 

"Only if you plan to reciprocate," Shiro grins cheerfully. Keith doesn't even notice the washcloth in his hands until Shiro presses it, half-damp, half-frozen, onto the nape of his neck. The shock quickly melts into relief, and Keith instantly feels the cold sink into his veins.

"This used to be the only thing to get me through summers in Takayama," Shiro laughs, watching Keith's eyes roll back. "Figured you might need a little help too."

"Marry me," Keith groans.

Shiro wiggles the fingers on his left hand, sunlight glinting gold on the band on his fourth finger. "With pleasure, baby."

> **12\. Con: When you are half asleep, a ball of hair in zero gravity in front of your face looks a little like a hairy, floating alien spider.**

And Shiro is completely, utterly terrified of spiders.

("I'll cut it all off right now," Keith promises, distressed by Shiro's distress. 

Shiro, still a little shaky and still clinging to Keith, manages to shake his head. "Don't you dare.")

> **13\. Pro: It brings your mother happiness.**

Krolia is the first one to greet him when they arrive back at the Garrison. 

"My sweet child," she says fondly, slipping the braid through her fingers. It's just long enough now for her to loop it loosely around his collarbone and over the back of his neck to rest the tail on his shoulder. "You look like a warrior."

It's so fiercely proud, so sincerely happy, that it forms a lump in his throat. It's more than just a braid—it's an open embrace of his culture, of a part of him that he didn't even know existed until he was grown. To Krolia, it means acceptance. It means forgiveness. It means love.

"Missed you, mom," he says, embracing her tightly.

> **14\. Pro: Shiro loves it.**

Shiro buries his face into Keith's crown again, nuzzling in.

"You smell so good," he murmurs sleepily. "Like peach blossoms and honey."

"Yeah, and it's borderline creepy that you can guess my shampoo by sniffing my hair," Keith quips, holding up the datapad. "Allura wants to know if you prefer the blue centrepieces, or the red ones?"

Shiro lifts his head reluctantly to squint at the screen. "Red," he says. 

"And which side did you want the band on?"

"Which would you prefer?" Shiro asks, unhelpfully.

Keith huffs, twisting in Shiro's hold. "I would have preferred you agreeing to let us elope several galaxies away six months ago instead of going through all this fuss."

Shiro pouts. It's depressingly effective. 

"Yes, yes, I know," Keith sighs. "It's about _being together_ after all we've been through." 

Shiro brushes the hair away from his neck and presses a soft kiss to the exposed skin there. "Tell Allura I don't mind as long as they're not in the frame during our vows."

"Sounds reasonable."

Shiro squeezes Keith tighter against his chest as he taps away on the datapad. "I can't believe I get to marry you in three weeks," he murmurs, the words warm at Keith's neck.

"I can't believe you beat me to the proposal."

Shiro chuckles, thumb glancing over the ring on Keith's hand. "Perhaps I taught you too much of patience over the years."

Keith huffs a laugh. "Yes, well patience might yield focus, but it also wastes a lot of fucking time, apparently."

"Not any more though."

"No," Keith agrees.

Shiro yawns behind him, before nuzzling into his nape once more. "What are you going to do with your hair?"

"Shave it," Keith deadpans, because it's the second time Shiro's tried to coax it out of him. Shiro lets out a pitiful whine that resembles a very elongated version of the word, "No," with several extra vowels tacked on the end. 

"I really like your hair," Shiro says quietly, after a moment's silence.

"Mm, I realise. You lack subtly in your affection."

"But I love you."

Ah, that. That is something Keith will never be quite used to, no matter how many times he hears it. He stops still, setting aside the datapad and turning in Shiro's lap to meet him in an unhurried kiss.

"I love you too, Takashi," Keith says softly. "The rest can wait. Let's get you to bed."

> **15\. Pro: Shiro loves it.**

_"Keith."_

He stares down at hands still lingering at the same buttonhole he was sure he had been working on ten minutes ago. How much time had he wasted already? How much time did he have left? God, what if he was late? What if Shiro wasn't there when he arrived?

_"Keith."_

He blinks, and suddenly he remembers how to move. He threads the button with a shaky exhale. 

"Mm. I'm here," he says quietly. 

_"Good,"_ Shiro says, relieved. _"I knew I should have ignored Matt when he waxed poetic about 'traditions'. You literally picked up my suit for me."_

Keith takes another breath and looks up at the screen, taking him in. "You look good," he says, a smile finally coming to his face. "Really good."

Shiro chuckles, threading his bow tie knot. _"You look good too, baby."_

The words unfurl something warm in his chest. But then he takes stock of Shiro, almost ready to go, and then he... _he_ …

"I haven't even done my hair yet," Keith croaks, with dread. "I haven't—"

 _"Keith,"_ Shiro interrupts. _"Baby, we have ninety minutes before the ceremony starts. You have plenty of time. Romelle hasn't even arrived yet, right? Besides, you could walk down that aisle with bedhair and you'd still be perfect."_ He swallows, looking sheepish on the screen. _"I'm just ready early because…well, I'm nervous."_

Keith blinks, stunned. It's the kind of information that uproots the laws of science and the universe. "You're nervous too?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper. 

Shiro laughs, and it _sounds_ nervous. _"I'm about to marry the love of my life, of_ course _I'm nervous. I want everything to go perfectly. I want to make you happy. I get nervous around you all the time, Keith."_ He comes in a little closer to the camera, abandoning his bow tie. _"But I'm excited too. I can't wait to see you and kiss you and tell you I'm yours."_

The lump in Keith's throat won't go away. "You're going to be my husband," he says, as if only coming to that realisation now.

Oh God, he's going to cry in front of a lot of people today, isn't he?

 _"And you're going to be mine,"_ Shiro says, smiling like the sun.

Keith smooths a hand through his hair, centering himself. "Bedhair, huh?" he finally asks, quirking a brow.

Shiro smile edges itself with something playful and hungry.

_"It's my favourite look on you."_

> **16\. Pro: Shiro loves it.**

Keith does cry. But Shiro cries first, so he thinks he can allow himself this. 

Shiro barely waits for the direction to kiss his groom, fingers careful to avoid the more delicate tiny twists threaded into the larger central braid as he sinks his fingers in, cradling the back of Keith's head. Keith doesn't hear the music, or the cheers—just the low timbre of Shiro's voice when he says, "You look so beautiful."

Keith grins, giddy, lashes still damp on his cheeks. "It's the hair," he says, but Shiro shakes his head, brushing their noses together.

"No, Keith. It's just you."

He kisses him again. 

"It's always been you."

**Author's Note:**

> Hi Kendall! I'm sorry you had to wait so long for your Remix gift. I hope this pinch hit piece does a little to make up for that. I had a lot of fun reading through your fics—Voltron and YOI alike—and I couldn't resist echoing Yurio's struggles with Keith.
> 
> I highly recommend checking out their works if you're searching for a new fic to read (or one to revisit!).
> 
> Catch me on [twitter](https://Twitter.com/copilotsheith).


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